I was sitting in Drakes at the Summit on Saturday sweating bullets but refusing to admit it. I had walked through the restaurant and decided on this spot near the garage doors. Donna had questioned my choice but I assured her it would be fine. It was with relief that I realized I had a voice mail on my phone. Anything to distract me from my ill-considered choice. When I checked it I heard my uncle's voice say “Hey Shane O, what time is the game again tomorrow?” Oops, I had forgotten that I had invited my uncle to the Bat's game on Sunday afternoon.
In fact, I assumed when I threw out the invite on the 4th that neither he nor anyone else would want to sit in the broiling hot sun at the stadium – like who's that dumb right? All the while I ignored the streams of sweat soaking my collar. The tickets were comped anyway so I had decided to skip the game. All due respect to the Toledo Mud Hens - all I'd really miss by not going would be sun stroke. I picked up an extra napkin and mopped the sweat from my forehead. Smiling weakly across the table at Donna I said, “Looks like I'm going to the game.” She chuckled and said, “I think it's supposed to storm; if you're lucky.” Do yourself a favor if you go to the Drakes at the Summit and don't sit next to the large garage doors. The heat radiates off these puppies at midday and the AC cannot keep up. “I hope it pours,” I said.
I called my uncle back and made plans to include brunch before the game. I had been looking for an excuse to try out the brunch at the Silver Dollar ever since I had read Marsha L's description of their empanadas and chili cheese hash browns. I had noticed that many others were giving the Dollar a thumbs up on brunch so I gave us a two hour window in case we had to wait for a table. I thought my uncle would like the Dollar's atmosphere as he is a singer of country music. I was a little worried however about how he would respond to the Dollar's take on country cooking.
Twenty-four hours later we pulled up to the Dollar's location on Frankfort. I was bewildered by all the available parking spaces. The street looked deserted. I passed several available spots before pulling into a shady one in front of Sweet Surrender. The heat hit us like a ton of bricks as soon as we got out of the car and we lost no time crossing over the street. We passed a couple of empty tables sitting out in front of the restaurant's garage doors. There were two dirty plates abandoned at one table. It was so hot at 11:45 that the flies weren't even interested. At this point it was every man for himself and I threw open the door and staggered in without waiting for my uncle. I was met by blessed cool air and turned to see if my uncle had made it. Thankfully he had.
The hostess was a pretty thing with straight blonde hair reaching near her hips and a figure so thin I couldn't imagine she ate many meals at the Dollar. She asked us how many. I said that we may be joined by another couple and she indicated the table located just behind the hostess stand and said we could have that table. I glanced at it and immediately noted its position directly in front of the large garage doors overlooking the baking sidewalk. I flashed back to lunch the previous day at Drakes and started to refuse. However, I hadn't had a chance to survey the room to see how crowded it was, so I didn't want to appear choosey. I accepted with a weak smile as the cold air chilled my sweat soaked collar. I silently thanked the Dollar's robust AC system.
We luxuriated in the cool shadowy interior while we waited for our waitress. I looked out at the street and briefly imagined the heat at 2:05 in the park. I hoped for rain. Our waitress had yet to appear but the hostess poured us water and I did not mind a bit of a wait. When our waitress arrived I greeted her with a robust smile and asked her for a strong coffee. “Well ok,” she said looking a bit surprised. “I heard you guys have strong coffee and I like mine really strong,” I said maintaining my smile. She gave in and smiled back saying she would see what she could do.
We talked while we sipped our water and it wasn't long before Chelsea sat down two smallish cups of green and orange glass, slightly tapered in the middle. These looked like yard sale loot or borrowed from her grandma's cabinet. “Give that a try.” she said and walked away quickly without waiting. I took a sip. She returned immediately and stood looking at me. I told her that it was the best cup of coffee I had ever had outside of a coffee shop. It really was. She grinned then and said she was a barista at heart. “I have a thing for coffee myself,” she said. “And I like coffee people.” This boded well for the rest of the meal I thought.
As I mentioned, my uncle is a country singer. Well, that and a painter. He has spent his life painting houses by day and singing in small town bars by night. His bands have played at 4th of July celebrations, Founder's Days, Jamboree's, and New Years Eve's for decades. He's cut a few CD's and even played gigs at some Highland's haunts over the years like Phoenix Hill and Jim Porters. I was curious to see what he thought of the Dollar. As a singer song writer, he is an observer of details. As we raced up to the restaurant, me with my eyes down-cast in the heat and focused only on the door, he had observed that the place was an old fire station. Waiting for our coffee he had quickly spotted the record player. By the time we'd got our coffee he had decided he liked the place and I was relieved. I still wasn't sure what he thought of the Dollar's one page menu though. We had both been looking at it since we had sat down and so far he had not made any comment.
I started to worry a little. “Order anything you like. I'm going to get a few things we can share but you go ahead and order anything you want,” I trailed off. He still didn't say anything. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. This place probably wasn't like any restaurant he had been to before. It certainly wasn't like the Waffle House. He had mentioned that he liked the Waffle House earlier. Finally he cleared his throat and said, “Well the chili cheese hash browns don't sound too bad.” My heart sank a little. I guess we should have went to WH.
Our waitress, Chelsea came up then and asked if we were ready. I started to say we needed a few minutes when my uncle surprised me by saying he guessed we were ready. I decided to go first and quickly ordered the vegetarian empanadas, cornmeal fried oysters, and chili cheese hash browns. I looked over at my uncle. He cleared his throat and asked, “Hon, if I get the steak and eggs can I get the eggs scrambled?” I winced a little and waited to see how our server would react. Chelsea appeared to be a thoroughly modern Highlander twenty-something with several visible tats, very black hair, fake eye lashes, polka dot shoes and I'm speculating at least one piercing. She had warmed up to us pretty quick but I wasn't at all sure how she would react to being called Hon or to scrambled eggs. “Sure you can and how would you like your steak?” “Well done.” my uncle said nodding as if he was just confirming what they both knew was the only proper choice. Uh huh Chelsea said lowering her pad. She started to turn away when my uncle cleared his throat again, “and bacon too.” She made note of this and again started to turn away. “And waffles.”
When our food came out, the server seemed surprised to see just the two of us. There were still menus at the other seats and the girl asked if there were other diners. “Just us.” I said as the plates filled up most of the available table space. We dug in with gusto and actually made a respectable go of it. When all was said and done, there was one empanada, a quarter serving of hash browns, three oysters, and half a waffle. In other words, breakfast for Marsha. I won't describe the food as others have done a better job of that than I can. I will say that I'm definitely going back for more chili though.
When Chelsea returned to refill our coffee for the last time she wore a concerned look. “Your coffee is all gone.” she said. Now it was my turn to look puzzled. “What do you mean?” It looked like coffee she was pouring. "I made your coffee special and its all gone." Wow, I hadn't realize she had actually prepared us up something special. “That's ok. We'll see what the regular coffee tastes like.” I looked up but she had already gone. I tasted it and noted it was much weaker and lacked that robust coffee house character. When she returned I said it's not as good but it's still fine. My uncle cleared his throat and said I like it. Tastes like Waffle House.
